


Slytherin Summers

by Camaendir



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Skinny Dipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 06:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10759065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camaendir/pseuds/Camaendir
Summary: Draco spends the summer at a villa. With Ron as his poolboy.





	Slytherin Summers

**Author's Note:**

> My first work in the Draco/Ron section. Always up for feedback and prompts. Thanks for reading.

As lovely as summers are at Malfoy Manor, where the sun shines brightly possibly three days out of the year, Draco much preferrs spending the summer days at the villa on Ibiza, where the sun shines down beautifully around six hundred days a year, if Malfoy guessed.

A summer in Ibiza is filled with sun, lounging out by the pool, and going down to the beach to ogle all the Spanish men in their European swimsuits. Their skimpy, skimpy swimsuits. Only two things made this summer better than most: Pansy Parkinson being in the villa next to the Malfoys’, and the new help for keeping up the estate, one Ron Weasley. Potter’s precious pal is spending the summer as the Malfoys’ pool boy.

And today finds Draco and Pansy lounging by the pool, drinking some delicious mango beverages, and tormenting poor Ron to the end of his ginger-fringed sanity. The red-head is running a skimmer through the pool, ignoring the chattering of the two Slytherins on the other side. He grins at the thought of holding Draco under with the skimmer.

“Another round, Weasley!” Pansy calls out, ice rattling inside her empty glass.  
Ron huffs and puts down the skimmer, making his way into the villa kitchen to grab the pitcher of mango cocktail. He enjoys the brief respite of cooling spells inside the villa before returning to the pool, filling both glasses to the brim.

“Thank you, Weasley,” Draco said, raising the glass to his lips with a smirk.

A non-committal noise came out of Ron in return.

“Ah-ah.” Draco shakes a finger at Ron and places his fingertips against his own chest. “What do you say to me after that?”

“You’re welcome, Master Draco,” Ron grits out, leaving the pitcher with them and walking to the other side of the pool.

Draco and Pansy’s laughter chases his back.

“Remind me why I’m doin’ this again?” Ron calls out. He lowers himself to one knee and begins pulling soaked tufts of seagull feathers from the skimmer.

“Because Draco is being kind enough to pay you quite handsomely for your help. That’s why,” Pansy retorts with a grin threatening to split her face in twain.

“And since Potter’s victory over the Dark Lord, he’s become insufferable, hasn’t he, Weasley?” Draco pipes up, ending it in a loud laugh.

“It’s all ‘Savior this’ and ‘Savior that’. Bleh,” Pansy adds, swinging her hands around for emphasis.

“Plus when he’s not doin’ shit for the Ministry, he’s bangin’ my sister in every fuckin’ room at the Burrow.” Ron shudders at the thought.

“If we’re going to start talking about Potter and things he does nude, I’m going to need more alcohol," Draco announces, lifting himself from the lounge chair and sauntering over to the villa for another pitcher.

“Really, Malfoy? I just got ya one,” Ron complains, placing the skimmer on the wall with other pool cleaning supplies.

“First, it’s still ‘Master Malfoy’, even if we are speaking about the horrid subject of Potter’s current annoyances. Second, I’ll need an entire pitcher if I’m going to start agreeing with the help.”

“Remember who is still allowed a wand and who isn’t, Master Malfoy.” Ron stares Draco down, and the blond just sneers in return, settling himself on the edge of the pool and dipping his long legs into the water.

“And yet who is here slaving away under the Spanish sun while the wandless are still bathing in galleons?” Pansy asks, taking the straw from her glass and depositing it in the pitcher next to her.

Ron mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “parents” and “Azkaban” before taking a long drink of water from a jug next to the kitchen entrance.

“Although,” she continues, "I’d give up my parent’s estate if it meant you have to wear that until your dying day.” She waves a hand in Ron’s direction, drinking in the dark flush that creeps over his face down to his shoulders. She turns her head and winks at Draco. “Credit where credit is due, my dear.”

“To be fair, we couldn’t have him running around in those garbs he brought with him, could we? Who brings a jumper to Ibiza. Seriously?”

“And so of course you gotta put me in this,” Ron replies with an eye roll.

Today, Ron is wearing a white tank top, which stands out again his caramel-coloured, sun-kissed skin, and some tiny blue shorts which look about two sizes too small for him. Draco wonders if he put a spell on them to keep them from splitting every time he bend over and stretched them over his gratuitous backside.

In fact, most things on Weasley are bigger than Draco remembers from school. But of course, that may just be the unflattering cut of Hogwarts robes. His chest is broad, with a spattering of ginger hair that peeks over the low cut of his tanks, and his arms are large with biceps which flex menacingly whenever he has to lift bags of sand and fertilizer for the villa.

Plus those legs. Ron has thick thighs that could choke the life out of a dragon if he ever came up against one down here. And maybe Draco has woken once or twice in the dead of night dreaming of those legs wrapped around other things. The things Draco could do to legs like those…

“Draco!” Ron yells, clapping his hands in front of Draco’s face. Draco startles, his daydream popping from existence.

“What?!”

“You fazed out there for a sec,” Ron explains, looking over Draco’s reddening features. He stands up and puts his hands on his hips. “Well if you don’t need anythin’ else out here, I’m gonna recast the cooling spells in the villa.”

He walks into the kitchen, then sticks his head out again. “With a wand. Which I can have. And you don’t.”

Draco sighs most dramatically, and looks up into the clear sky above, bright blue like someone’s eyes. Pansy smirks at him and flicks an ice cube at him. He growls when it hits him right below his ear.

“I know that look, Draco. You-“

“Shut it, Pansy.” Draco pulls his legs from the water and shakes them free of droplets.

“I will admit, he does have a terrific body. I wonder if everything is big on him. You know, like his-“

“Don’t! Don’t you fucking say it.”

“…his dick.”

“Oh my god,” Draco mutters to himself as Pansy nearly falls over laughing so hard.

~

Some nights later, Draco is woken by a splash. He bolts upright in bed. The wards should be keeping anyone from sneaking into the villa. Grabbing a dagger mounted on the wall of his room. He creeps downstairs and out the open kitchen door.

Outside, bathed in moonlight, is Ron. Draco can tell, even though he is facing away from him, from the wet mess of ginger locks. His arms are out against the stone edge of the pool and he is staring forward at the ocean.

“Goddamn it, Weasley, what are you doing?” Draco blurts out.

Ron flounders and splashes more, turning to face Draco, who has his hands on his hips and the dagger still firmly gripped.

“Sorry, couldn’t sleep and felt like a swim would be nice,” Ron explains, keeping to the wall of the pool. His eyes travel down Draco’s body, clad only in pajama bottoms, and he spots the dagger.

“Woah, Malfoy, if I had known the pool was off limits, I would have gone to the beach.” He holds up his hands, raising himself a little out of the water so his chest is no longer hidden by the pool wall.

“What?” Draco looks at the dagger in his hand. “Ah. Don’t worry, I’m not going to use it on you. Thought you were an intruder.” He places the dagger on the glass table between the lounge chairs. “Though I would prefer not to be awoken in the middle of the night by someone splashing around. An heir needs his beauty sleep.”

The conversation dies and the two are left staring at each other, Draco trying hard not to let his gaze fall down to Ron’s chest and his dark nipples. He licks his lips and coughs absentmindedly.

“Well?” He asks, tapping his foot.

“What? I said I was sorry.”

“Not that bit. The part where you get out of the pool and go to bed like a normal man.” Draco rolls his eyes and considers picking up the dagger again.

“I, uh, I can’t.” Ron goes red around his cheeks and ears.

“Well why not? Some grindylow keeping you in the water?”

“No. I just, well… You gave me those clothes for the summer.”

“Yes, I know. I was there,” Draco responds sarcastically.

“And you got rid of the clothes I brought. Well, burned them actually.”

“Too be fair, they were all hideous and deserved to be burned,” Draco explains with a touch of glee in his voice. The look on Weasley’s face was worth burning the small parcel of clothes he brought with him.

“You never gave me a swimsuit.”

The two stare at each other more as Draco processes this information. His face reddens and nearly matches Ron’s hair.

“You mean you’re-“

“Yeah.” Ron ducks down a little into the water.

“Well then,” Draco clears his throat and tries to push down the twisting knot at the base of his spine. “I still see no problem for you to get out.”

“What? But I- I’m…” Ron lowers his voice, ”nude.”

“Really, Weasley? We spent seven years with some of the ugliest children England has to offer. I think I can handle some skin. Even if it does belong to a Weasley.”

By now, Draco’s entire face is red, and he’s feeling a bit dizzy.

Ron squints at Draco and sighs, shrugging his shoulders before planting his palms on the edge of the pool and pushing.

This could have easily come from one of Draco’s dreams. Water cascading down Weasley’s buff body, catching in the moonlight to give him a shimmering look. His biceps bulge as he lifts himself from the pool in one smooth motion. One knee catches the edge and he levers himself up further, inch by inch of ginger skin becoming exposed to Draco. Then he stands up, bare as anything, and untouchably beautiful in the moonlight.

Draco can’t help it. He lets his eyes wander over Ron’s body, drinking in every drop of water than traverses the muscles and dips of his torso. And lower, where they slide down well-muscled thighs and over….

Bloody fuck.

Draco can’t stop himself from staring. Inhuman. It is inhuman.

“Well as enjoyable as it is having you drool over my naked body-“

“I am not drooling,” Draco bites, his hand twitching to check if actually is.

“I think I’m going to take your advice and go to bed.” Ron strides past Draco, a wet slapping sound accompanying his walk. He grabs a towel he left on a lounge chair and goes inside.

Draco’s blood suddenly rushes back to his brain.

“Wait. ‘Enjoyable’? Were you being sarcastic? Ron? Answer me. Ron? Ronald!” He yells, chasing Ron into the house.


End file.
